An Exercise in Insanity
by tonraq
Summary: The hollow wants what the King has. And it will take, no matter the cost. Takes place at the very beginning of the Arrancar Arc, just after Rukia has begun to stay with the Kurosakis.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

* * *

There was a stirring inside him; a sick lump of dread which formed in the pit of his stomach, waves of ill feeling accompanying gentle yet sporadic prods against his soul. 

It was happening again. Ichigo cursed and rolled over, the sheets sticking to his sweaty limbs from the humidity of the night. He wished his bed was bigger, so there could be more cool spaces: he wished the bed would stop swaying, so he could get a reign on the nausea which pushed against his throat. He refused to open his eyes: that would make it real, and not just a figment of his imagination: a nightmare brought on by exhaustion from lack of sleep.

He knew from the last time he'd looked at his alarm clock that it was around one in the morning. He'd had a tiring day; fighting hollows, putting up with classmates, annoying shinigami, and his even more annoying father. And now this. He sighed in frustration and irritation at his own self-pity. There was another soft push against his soul, and Ichigo tensed up, but forced himself to relax.

_Relax. It's the key to falling asleep_, he reminded himself._ Just relax all the muscles...regulate the breathing_...If he didn't think about it, maybe it would go away. He was deluding himself and he knew it, but it was late, and Ichigo was no stranger to denial. He forced his thoughts away from Rukia, sleeping in the next room with his sisters.

His breaths fell to an even rhythm as the minutes ticked by; the room became silent, and he was able to hear Kon's scratchy almost-snore from under his bed and tried to get his breathing to match the plushie's..._relax, relax, don't think about it..._

Ichigo hadn't realized he'd dropped into a doze until a wave of nausea jolted him out of it: he sat up abruptly, sweating and gasping for air as if he'd just been punched in the stomach. The sheets made a tangle around his legs as he made a desperate attempt to calm down, to conquer the nausea, to ignore the voice which sounded in the back of his mind.

_"Hello there, King. Nice night, ain't it?"_

Ichigo attempted to ignore it, concentrating on forcing the nausea down to manageable levels. If he didn't answer it, maybe it would go away. Maybe he was just imagining it, anyway...

_"It's been a while, King, and I'm bored. Why don't you let me out for the night?"_

"Hell no," Ichigo said automatically, then cursed himself for responding.

_"And why not?_ _What's so bad with letting me have the upper hand for a little while? It's not such a terrible request...one night, even, and I'd let you have the body back in the morning."_

"Never," Ichigo whispered, determined not to wake the other occupant of his room. "You're a killer; I'd be an idiot to let you out willingly."

_"I'm a killer?"_ The hollow sounded amused. "_That's a bit hypocritical of you, King. I've never actually killed anyone before. Whereas you have killed many, many hollows."_

"That's different. They're purified and sent to Soul Society; it's the right thing to do. You just want to kill because you like it."

_"Don't you?"_ His hollow cackled a bit. "_Admit it, King - you get a rush from battle. You love it!"_

"So maybe I like fighting, so what?" Ichigo whispered defensively. "But I don't fight to kill people. I wouldn't like doing that."

_"Yet you unleash your bankai on the captains of Sereitei and attempt to crush them no matter the cost. You can pull punches but not bankais, King."_ Ichigo felt it smirking.

"That was to save Rukia," Ichigo said, but had no other answer. It was true. He had tried his best to kill Renji...Zaraki...Byakuya...all because there had been no other way at the time, though, he thought desperately. It had been the only option.

_"There was always an option not to fight, King."_

He couldn't have done that. To let Rukia die... he could not have done that.

_"We'd both kill, given the circumstances and chance,"_ his hollow whispered, and the words were like poison gas filling the corners of his mind; he could not get away. "_How am I different from you, Ichigo? I am superior because I know that I would kill, King. I've accepted that, and that's all there is. Don't push your traits on to me, King; don't make me the bad guy, here. We're one and the same. It's like blaming a mirror for the colour of your hair. So what difference does it make if I'm in charge, rather than you?"_

"I'm still not letting you out," Ichigo hissed, furious. His hollow only cackled. "Damn you, I'm not letting you out!" He half-yelled this last part, and for a moment Ichigo froze as he heard movement from the other room. It settled down after a few seconds; Rukia must have just turned over. He forcibly lowered his voice, but it was hard. "As long as you exist, it puts my family in danger. Do you think I'd give you control here, around them?"

_"Oh?"_ The hollow seemed amused by Ichigo's words, infuriating him still further. "_Would you then let me out here, around her?" _There was a subtle shift in its tone of voice. In the next room, Rukia coughed.

"Around...no, I wouldn't!" Ichigo whispered fiercely.

_"Disappointing how you underestimate her so, King. Don't you think she would be able to handle me...in battle?"_ The pause was not lost on Ichigo's sleep-starved brain. "_Or are you so afraid of your own lust? For blood, of course..." _It sniggered, a high-pitched, grating sound, and Ichigo wanted badly to hurt it.

"You're sick," he said, but that only made the hollow laugh louder.

_"Oh, now it's my fault? Don't lie to me, Ichigo: I know how you think about her. And this is where our difference comes through again; you have the mentality of a nine-year-old when it comes to women, King." _His hollow's voice was laden with derisive scorn._ "I've seen you: you blush at breasts as if you'd never seen them before! Ha!" _

Ichigo plugged his ears, tried to think of something else, but the hollow persisted, and Ichigo hated it more than ever before.

_"You think about her, King. But that's all! You're pathetic! What kind of man just stands by, doing nothing, when the woman he wants has been sleeping in the exact same room?"_

"A decent one," Ichigo muttered, feeling stupid and embarrassed and loathing both his hollow and himself. He wasn't like Mizuiro: confident around girls he liked, or Keigo: admitting his feelings at the drop of a hat. Besides, what if she didn't like him? "I...I'm going to say something to Rukia, if she ever acts interested," Why was he defending his himself against an evil monster, again?

_"Interested? She talks to you. She hits you. She jokes with you. She's interested, King. How are you so blind?"_

"She does all of that with Renji," Ichigo said, an incredibly surreal feeling crawling over him. He was talking about girls with his inner hollow.

_"She rides on your back,"_ the hollow pointed out, voice laced with innuendo. Ichigo's face flamed up again, mortified by the previously unthought-of interpretation of Rukia's mode of transportation before she had regained her powers. There was something like a sigh from the hollow, and the next thing Ichigo knew was blinding pain from the intense, all-encompassing waves of nausea crashing through him.

Springing out of bed, Ichigo rushed down the hall and made it in time to the bathroom, where he heaved and retched over the toilet in abject misery. The hollow had done something, he was sure of it, but it was giving no explanation. It felt as if someone had reached into his heart and wrapped an icy hand around his soul. He threw up until there was nothing left, but the feeling didn't go away. Standing shakily, he leant heavily against the sink and counter, rinsing out his mouth and brushing his teeth weakly, hoping that the minty taste would help him feel better. It was only after this that he felt strong enough to raise his head to look at himself in the mirror.

Shreds of black were creeping across the white of his left eye. Ichigo swore and - for lack of anything better to do - slapped himself across the face, hoping to ... what? Jolt the hollow's grip on his soul? He could hear faint laughter in the ringing silence, and the icy fingers tightened: Ichigo heaved over the sink, but nothing came out.

_"If you won't let me out yourself, King_," the voice tore through Ichigo's pained breathing and choking, "_then I'll find a way to come out myself. I've done it before...and now I know how..."_ its voice was smug.

_But that was in_ _battle_, Ichigo thought between abdominal spasms: his throat felt raw. _Only_ _when my life is threatened, when I'm about to die, only when I'm outside my body, he...shit!_ Ichigo coughed as bile, coming up from his tortured stomach, was caught in an air passageway: it burned unrelentingly and Ichigo gripped the counter with white knuckles as wracking coughs tore at his throat. There was blood on the white porcelain of the sink.

He could feel his consciousness starting to slip; black spots were dancing in front of his eyes, he couldn't get enough air, he was coughing too hard: the spasms rocked his stomach, and he heaved again. The mad laughter was getting louder - closer, and Ichigo began to panic. There were two hands on his soul now: he could feel their icy grip shifting and squeezing, and the nakedness of his self terrified him. Somewhere along the line, his legs gave way; he slipped down to sit on the floor, scraping his shoulder against the edge of the counter and bashing his knee against the toilet, but he was past caring by now. Ichigo curled into the fetal position, body shuddering involuntarily as he lost all control of his muscles, and those hands began to _pull_.

The pain was unbearable, and Ichigo felt his mind beginning to shut down in response. _No!_ He thought, panicking entirely. _This can't be happening!_ He could feel the blood in his mouth, warm and coppery; his abdominal muscles screamed in pain; he could hear the blood pounding in his ears, getting louder and louder until it nearly eclipsed the laughter of the hollow.

The thudding stopped abruptly and Ichigo, spiralling in to blackness, saw the hazy image of two feet standing on the floor before him, wavering before dissolving in a wave of red.

_"Good night, King."_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

* * *

Rukia had woken to a surge of unfamiliar reiatsu and an unholy racket._ It's a wonder the girls haven't woken up,_ she thought as she leapt out of bed, swallowing the soul candy and rushing down the hall. It felt as though Ichigo were fighting a hollow - _in his room? No...the bathroom. Wait? The bathroom?_

She skidded to a halt outside the bathroom door, Pyon a few seconds behind her. The door was open, and the noise had stopped...as had Ichigo's wildly fluctuating reiatsu. Rukia looked in and choked back a gasp.

Ichigo lay on the tiled floor, limply curled in a fetal position, blood spatters around his head and strings of bloody saliva coming from his lips. His breathing was ragged and Rukia could tell he was unconscious. What the hell had happened? Rukia had heard - from health day in class - about such things as allergic reactions and anaphylactic shock, but Ichigo had never...could a hollow have done this; destroyed his insides without leaving an outward mark?

She knelt by his head, Pyon looking on from the doorway, and reached for his wrist, intent on checking Ichigo's pulse. The moment her fingers touched his, however, her own wrist was caught in a steely, ice-cold grasp: Ichigo's soul rose from his inert form, but it was white, dead white, with inverse eyes locked on Rukia's. It was grinning.

"Well," it said. "Look who came out to play."

Rukia stared, frozen by something colder than the hand on her wrist; Ichigo's soul form rose from his prone body, but it was all wrong, it couldn't be Ichigo! The reiatsu washing over her in waves was black and tainted; Urahara-san had told her of an inner hollow, and she had lectured Ichigo on his absolute need to control it, but Rukia realized here, now, that she'd never fully understood it. The not-Ichigo rising from his body was bone-white, parchment-white, with black and yellow eyes and a wicked grin _and it was still holding her wrist._

_Reason, Rukia, _she told herself. Hollow or not, the thing was still a part of Ichigo, and it had to be very smart. Nonetheless, her other hand went to the handle of Sode no Shirayuki.

"You. What do you want?" She demanded imperiously, a Kuchiki down to her toes. "What have you done to Ichigo?"

The not-Ichigo was standing now, and its only answer was a widening smile. Rukia attempted to yank her hand back, but it wouldn't let go: instead, it took a step forward, holding her uncomfortably close.

"Ichigo's sleeping," it said in its distorted voice, the half-truth slithering out easily, grating on Rukia's hearing. The not-Ichigo towered over her, and her anger boiled up: usually she avoided contrasting her own diminutive stature with Ichigo's height, as she hated feeling small, but the not-Ichigo was smirking down at her, and she had to _crane her neck_ to see the mocking light in his eyes. It was too much.

"Let me go," she hissed furiously: the not-Ichigo only shook his head, pulling her a little closer, grinning like a lunatic.

_Fine_, Rukia thought. _If that's the way it has to be..._ She drew Sode no Shirayuki in one swift movement, the handle of the sword driving straight into the not-Ichigo's crotch.

It keeled over, cursing and hissing at her, and Rukia grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, Sode no Shirayuki's point on its spine.

"All right," she said, "you're coming with me."

"My pleasure," it hissed weakly, and Rukia tried to ignore it as she marched it out of the bathroom and into the hallway.

"Pyon," she said softly, "take Ichigo back to his room and put him to bed. I'll be back shortly." _I hope_.

"Hai, Rukia-sama!" Pyon saluted, and Rukia flash-stepped to Ichigo's bedroom window, forcing the not-Ichigo out into the night and following swiftly afterwards.

The park. She had decided to go there, as it was nearly deserted even in the daytime, and it was far enough away from those with significant spiritual pressure that the - presumed - battle would go undetected. She pushed the not-Ichigo face-first into the sandbox, and moved Shirayuki's point up to the back of its neck.

"Now, you're going to answer some questions for me," Rukia said, pricking the not-Ichigo lightly. "And you'd better be truthful."

It just cackled in reply. Rukia blew out a sigh.

"Alright. For starters, what- agh!"

It had thrown sand in her face; not well-aimed, as it mostly went up her nose, but Rukia cursed as she lost focus nonetheless. The not-Ichigo scrambled to its feet and vanished. _Idiot!_ How could she have been distracted by the oldest trick in the book?

"Hollow, or whatever you are, get out here where I can see you!" Rukia said angrily, Sode no Shirayuki at the ready. Focussing, she attempted to locate the thing's reiatsu: she caught hints of it directly behind her and she whirled around to see empty space. A cackle sounded eerily in the air all around her; Rukia focussed harder.

"Oh, Rukia…I am disappointed in you…"

There! She struck out with her sword, behind her and slightly to the left, but it was gone: its speed was incredible. She stood in the sandbox and tried to think of a plan. Rukia was talented in kidou and very good with shunpo, yet she was having doubts about her abilities to beat the not-Ichigo. Ichigo himself was very fast, exceedingly so in bankai mode, and if this inner hollow could mimic Ichigo's fighting style, Rukia wasn't sure she would be able to keep up.

"Ruuukiaaa..." The distorted voice was a half-whispered croon, coming to her on the wind.

"How could you not know me, Rukiaaaaa?" She glanced from side to side, seeing no-one.

"You are the reason I exist, Rukia…I am the power that saved you, Rukia…I came into being to find you, to take you back from your tower…Rukia…"

_It's lying,_ she told herself. _It's insane, and it's lying. Try to focus_.

"Ruuukiaaa..." The voice came again, caressingly, and Rukia shivered as she tried to focus on its location. She wished she could close her eyes: it made pinpointing reiatsu ten times easier, but she couldn't afford to visibly let her guard down.

"Bastard!" She called, sounding braver than she felt, "what have you done with Ichigo? Come out and fight me!"

"Ruuukiaaa," the voice hissed, sudden compared to its earlier calling, "don't you worry your pretty little head about Ichigo. He'll be just fine where he is for now, never mind what I've done with him."

Rukia listened intently, trying to sync sound and reiatsu together to come up with a definitive location.

"Maybe," its voice came, and Rukia tensed; she almost had it pinpointed, "maybe you should be asking yourself-"

There was a flurry of movement and a sudden tightness around her throat; Rukia felt herself being slammed up against something before she could even register that the not-Ichigo had grabbed her neck and sped her backwards to pin her against a tree.

"-what I'm going to do with you." It smirked into her face, twisting Ichigo's features into the alien expression.

Rukia's left hand flew up reflexively to try and pry the not-Ichigo's hand away; it didn't even bother looking at her, as it was busy wrenching Sode no Shirayuki out of her other hand. Rukia let out a strangled cry as the hollow in human form wrapped its hands around the blade and twisted: Shirayuki cut deep, singing against hollow blood, and Rukia's stomach turned as the not-Ichigo slid its hand up to the pommel. Her hand slipped in its blood; Sode no Shirayuki went spinning out of her grasp to land several feet away on the grass.

"You bastard..." Rukia narrowed her eyes and brought her hand up to point in the hollow's face. "Way of Destruc-mmph!"

She was cut off by a large, bloodied hand over her mouth, the fingers wrapping around the lower half of her face. Ichigo - _no, not Ichigo, the thing which made a parody of Ichigo_ - his hands again reminded Rukia of just how small she was in comparison. She tried to tug its hand away from her throat, but to no avail.

"Sshh," the hollow was saying. "Naughty, naughty. You could've hurt me there." It took its hand away from her face, leaving bloody streaks across her lips: she spat, rejecting the bitter, metallic flavour.

"What, don't like the taste?" It leered at her, bringing its still-bleeding hand up to its own face. Rukia watched with a sick fascination as it ran its tongue slowly from palm to fingertip, licking a clean trail in a gesture that crossed the line into obscene. It swallowed and turned its attention back to Rukia with a slow, carnivorous smile. "It's not so bad," said Ichigo who was not Ichigo, and then his open mouth was on hers, hot and wet. She gasped, and the foul taste of blood entering her mouth as it thrust its tongue inside: Rukia bit down as hard as she could, then gagged as its blood filled her mouth, warm and coppery.

It pulled away from her with a cry of pain and rage; Rukia spat and coughed, trying to get rid of its taste. When she looked back up at the hollow, her heart leapt for one painful moment: its features were hard, its mouth set in the same downturned scowl that Ichigo so often wore. Blood trickled from the corner of its mouth, however, forcibly reminding her that this was not the boy she knew. It hurt.

"You bitch." It sounded more petulant than angry; its grip around her throat was still only firm enough to hold her against the tree. "Why'd you do that? I know you like him...I know you want him..." Its eyes darkened, and Rukia shuddered as Ichigo's familiar, grumpy face turned sinister without losing its basic similarity of expression. This was a side of Ichigo that Rukia had never seen, and she hoped never to see it on his face: in battle he was determined, with her he was annoyed, around his family he was angry sometimes, but this seemed to tap a deeper well of rage than she could have imagined.

"You want him." It growled again, bringing its face close to hers, "Don't try to deny it. So why don't you want me?"

"You're not him," Rukia said, her voice hard: it was an accusation.

"I came into being through his will to find you, Rukia." The hollow seethed. "I was born with one goal in mind, and it was power, power enough to find you and make you mine, because that was what _he_ wanted most desperately."

Its eyes narrowed. "I know his thoughts before he says them; I share his feelings. He wants you, and I want you to the exact same degree."

Her eyes widened, and it broke into a smirk. "Oh yes, he wants you; he doesn't allow himself to show it, of course, the idiot. But it's there...you can just imagine how he thinks of you at night." It laughed as its lascivious tone caused Rukia to blush hotly, and continued. "He wants you, Rukia, and I was born of that desire...I literally cannot get you out of my mind." It leaned closer, scrutinizing her, its breath hot on her face. "I want power, Rukia, but all I can think of is you. You don't know how frustrating that is-" its hand began to tighten around her throat - "to hunger for power, to hunger for domination, yet to be _shackled_ -" Rukia began to choke - "to this lust for a shinigami -"

Rukia struck out, her fist connecting solidly with its cheek, her knee coming out to smash into the place between its legs. Its face contorted in surprise and pain, but instead of letting go of her, however, the not-Ichigo yanked on her neck as it fell to the ground; in a flash, Rukia put her hands up to pry his fingers from her throat, and shunpo'd across to Sode no Shirayuki. She gasped for breath, feeling immensely relieved as her hand wrapped around the hilt of her zanpakutou.

"Monster." She rasped, as the not-Ichigo groaned on the grass. "You're not Ichigo. I will never want you, and I will never allow you to kill me."

She turned her wrist slowly. "Mai, Sode no Shirayuki," she intoned. "Tsugi no Mai: Hakuren!"

A wave of ice thundered towards the not-Ichigo; as she had expected, it realized this and attempted to jump out of the way. It was too late, however, and the ice caught everything from the elbow down, save its left arm. Rukia walked up to it, calmly.

"Perhaps we may talk now," she said, looking up at it: the wave of ice had caught it about five feet in the air. The black eyes were murderous.

"Shinigami bitch, I can't kill you!" It raged, pulling helplessly against the ice. "Don't you understand? It's because of him; he wants you so badly, that I cannot kill you even if I wanted to; it would tear away a part of what I am! I'm not trying to kill you; I'm trying to get you out of my head!"

Rukia, stunned by the amount of raw hatred in the not-Ichigo's voice, tried to reconcile its words to her worldview. She'd had no idea that Ichigo's feelings for her ran so strongly that they had become the impetus for a whole other being; she was awed and frightened, especially by the implication of its last statement. _Get me out of its head?_ She didn't dare voice out loud what that could mean, and instead changed the subject.

"If I kill you," she said, voice still slightly raw, sickness welling up inside her at the thought of killing anything with Ichigo's face, no matter what it was, "what would happen?"

It was silent for a long while, as Rukia waited nervously. She was rewarded as the not-Ichigo began its reply, its voice laced with the dark anger she'd seen in it before.

"I would die, woman," it sneered, "and your precious Ichigo would die with me. I'm in control right now; he's just a figment of my imagination. Without me to think about him, he'd disappear!" It spat down at her, and Rukia stepped delicately out of the way.

"So then how do I get rid of you?"

It laughed, an insane shout. "You can't, idiot! And why would I tell you, if you could? I may look like Ichigo, but I'm not stupid! Only he can help himself out of this one." It grinned ferociously at her. "Until then, you have to play nice with me, instead."

Rukia considered this. Her ice was beginning to melt; she'd consciously stopped it from splintering as it usually did, not wanting to damage Ichigo's soul form, usurped or not. She couldn't afford to freeze it a second time; chances were she wouldn't be so lucky, or Ichigo's soul form would be crippled from frostbite. And now she faced a dilemma: it seemed as though she would have to wait until either Ichigo resurfaced or the hollow broke free, and she didn't know what to do in the latter situation. From above, the hollow leered at her, and Rukia began to truly feel scared. Ichigo was gone...and she could not lift one finger to bring him back.

* * *

A/N: Hopefully hollow!Ichigo's intentions became clear in this chapter. I doubt h!Ichigo would go after Rukia for any other reason, unless to torture Ichigo into submission by hurting one of his closest friends. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

* * *

Ichigo woke up and threw up, in that order. He was nearly done dry-heaving when he realized he was face-down on the sideways buildings of his inner world. Spitting and wiping his mouth with his black sleeve, Ichigo climbed unsteadily to his feet. What had happened? 

There was no sign of Zangetsu; the sky above was filled with billowing black clouds and the occasional lightning bolt. He hadn't been fighting, had he? He couldn't remember...and where was his nameless double, come to think about -

Memory pounded into his skull like a hammer: Ichigo fell to his knees and clutched at his head. If he was here...then that meant that _it_ was out there. Oh no. Oh no. Anything but that! There was no knowing what it would do...to his sisters, to his father, to _Rukia_...

He got to his feet once again, horror boiling inside of him. What had he done?

"_Zangetsu!_"

No sooner had the cry issued from his mouth than the old man was there, cloak whipping in the wind.

"Ichigo."

Ichigo turned wretched eyes to the spirit of his zanpakutou. "Zangetsu, how do I get back? Tell me, what do I have to do?"

* * *

It had been twenty minutes. The not-Ichigo had taken to wriggling as the ice around it melted and ran; Rukia sat, tense and quiet, trying to ignore the hollow's repeated taunts and come-ons. She'd tuned it out at first, instead reviewing in her head all the kidou chants and spells she had ever learned. No time like the present to buff up on the kidou skills...and Rukia had a feeling she would be using many of them quite soon. However, she couldn't help but pay attention to its ranting, and try as she might, it succeeded in distracting her quite a bit. 

"Come closer, Rukia," it said, its voice wicked and beckoning. "I'm at your mercy, Rukia...don't you want to take advantage of that? Think of the possibilities, Rukia...Rukia, come closer. I know what you'd like to do to Ichigo's body...and here it is, right in front of you...I won't bite, promise, at least not hard. It'll feel so good, Rukia, girl, woman, Rukia you know you want me. You could close your eyes and pretend it's him; it'll feel like him, you know it...come closer, Rukia, I want to taste you, dominate you, fuck you blue... "

"Shut up," She snapped, and immediately rebuked herself for responding to it.

The not-Ichigo gave her a cunning look. "Make me. I know that once I've got you tied up, I'll have a gag for you...oh yes," it grinned at Rukia's look of revulsion, "I can't kill you, Rukia, but I've decided to keep you. You should feel special that we want you that badly."

_Oh hell, oh Ichigo, why is this happening?_ Rukia willed the panic and nausea in her throat to go down, and she forced herself to look away from eerily familiar face of the hollow, who sat smirking in a self-satisfied manner. It did not stay quiet for long, however.

"Rukia, Rukia, cold as ice," the not-Ichigo sing-songed, and Rukia twitched a little as its voice broke her concentration. "Rukia, Rukia, I'd fuck you in a trice," Rukia's cheeks burned. "Rukia, Rukia, queen of the snow..." It noticed her gaze on it and grinned lecherously, "won't you let me go?"

It finished the little song, then wrenched its arm out of the ice in one swift movement. It stared at it, flexing its fingers - _so like Ichigo's, but no, don't think of that, Rukia_ - then turned to her with a triumphant grin.

"Soooon, Ruuukiaaa," it called. "And then I'll have you, silly shinigami. In fact -" it bent forward, and the ice around the reverse-Zangetsu on its back cracked and splintered; the tip came free. The not-Ichigo's face lit up; it reached back to clasp the zanpakutou's handle. "In fact, Rukia, I just can't wait any longer to have you." An insane smile began to spread across its face; Rukia surged to her feet, drawing Sode no Shirayuki, but not fast enough.

"Bankai!" It called, and the ice splintered and exploded, flying outwards, forcing Rukia to dodge behind the tree for shelter. When she emerged again, at the ready, the not-Ichigo was nowhere to be seen.

Rukia stood amidst the wreckage of melting ice shards, Sode no Shirayuki in guard position, kidou glowing in her other hand, wondering if she could bind it enough to allow Ichigo to re-emerge, and if that was even possible.

"Ruuukiaaa..." The voice echoed around her, and her stomach tightened in a knot.

"Not this again! You coward, come out where I can see you!" Rukia swallowed, trying to get the lump of fear out of her throat.

"Oh alright," the hollow blurred into existence about ten feet in front of her, a mocking grin on its face. "Anything for you, Rukia. After all, once I've caught you it'll always be you saying that to me; I think I can indulge you for a little while." It bowed, making a sweeping gesture with the bone-white Zangetsu. "Care to dance?"

And then he was in front of her, zanpakutou swinging wildly; Rukia barely was able to block it, and the blades connected with a jarring clash as it hissed in delight, hot breath on her face.

"Bastard," Rukia gritted out, then, in a complicated movement, began to step away from the not-Ichigo, swatting him in the side of the head as she did so, and then leaping free as Zangetsu bore down into empty space.

"Sai!" She shouted, hoping against hope, and the unfinished kidou spell activated; the not-Ichigo stumbled, and binding kidous flew from Rukia's lips like a torrent.

"Way of Binding Number One: Sai!" The not-Ichigo's arms leapt together behind his back, restrained by the characteristic lock. Rukia, well aware that Ichigo had broken that particular kidou before even becoming a shinigami, continued to chant rapidly. "Way of Binding Number Four: Crawling Rope! Way of Binding Number Sixty-One: Six Rods Light Prison!"

The rope snaked its way around the white form; yellow rods of light slammed into its midsection. The look on its face was sullen, affronted, mad, angry...it held its mouth in the same unhappy lines that Ichigo did, summoning a surge of peculiar feeling in Rukia's chest, causing her heart to ache even as she panted for breath.

"I see how it is," it said, and the ropes of kidou crackled and sparked as he tried to move, the speed of bankai foiled by the spells. "You just don't want me to have any fun. You and Ichigo both. No wonder he hasn't had you yet!" It laughed, bitterly.

"Fun doesn't have to be animalistic killing or rutting," Rukia said, blushing at her own words, though she kept her voice even and imperious. "Ichigo's a far nobler soul than you, you base_ thing_." She put all the scorn she could muster into the pronouncement of the word.

The hollow laughed mirthlessly. "Noble, you say? He's anything but. You think he's so great, with his rushing to the rescue and innocent eyes and good intentions. Ha! He's pathetic. He only gets stronger when he's shit-scared and has screwed up so badly it's almost unfixable. He's totally motivated by some idiotic sense of duty, to the point that he would abandon friends he's had since time out of mind to go chasing off after some girl he just met, and nearly get two of his newer friends killed in the process."

"I'm not listening to your bile, hollow," Rukia said, feeding reiatsu into the kidou bonds and wishing she knew a spell that could produce a gag.

"You should," it sneered in its mangled voice. "You can't imagine what he wants to do with you. You listen to me and tell me your precious Ichigo is a saint!"

Rukia held up her finger angrily. "You may look like Ichigo, but I will hurt you if you lie about him, especially in that way. After all, I just have to keep you alive and relatively intact."

The hollow gave her a dark look. "In the first one, you're fighting hollows together, and afterwards he takes you up against the side of a building. Your hands held above your head by his, your legs around his waist, and when he's not kissing you you're moaning his na-"

"B-byakurai!" Rukia commanded, her face a fierce red, pointing her finger at the hollow; a small amount of lighting sizzled from the tip to hit it in the shoulder, between the shifting kidou ropes.

The hollow hissed, a sharp intake of breath at the sudden pain, but didn't stop. "He's also got one from when you were still sleeping in his cupboard. You've been having bad dreams, so you crawl in beside him, and he wakes up and you're on top of him...this is where his imagination really kicks in, cause you've got this _great_ husky voice and you confess your love for him and how much you want him, and you beg him to – aahh!"

Rukia returned her hand to her side, where it curled into a fist; she was shaking from anger, trying desperately to calm herself down.

"And then there's the one with the ropes," it hissed venomously, mouth drawn in a horrible smile. "Although I might have influenced that one - ahh, shit!"

* * *

"So he's in charge of my body now?" Ichigo asked, running his hand distractedly through his hair; the freakish wind gusted all around him. Zangetsu nodded. 

"It has been growing stronger ever since your return from Soul Society," his zanpakutou said solemnly. "Ichigo, you must find a way to master it."

"I know, I know," Ichigo said, frustrated. "But how? How did it get out in the first place? He made it so that I...usually he only comes out when I'm nearly dying, and my resolve is weak. And I'm able to get him back in because I'm always there, behind my eyes, but now I can't see the way out..."

"Ichigo, it is possible to watch what is happening outside your body," Zangetsu said. "How else do you think that your hollow was able to know your situations, or who you were fighting?"

"You mean he spies on me?" Ichigo took a moment from worrying to be completely outraged. "That's sick!"

"It is only possible to see clearly when you are fighting," Zangetsu said, with a slight upturn of his mouth. "All other times, people and faces are blurred, as if seeing them through water."

"That's not much better," Ichigo muttered. "Well if he could do it, I can do it too. Where do I look?"

Zangetsu pointed to his feet.

"The windows?" Ichigo asked, incredulously, but Zangetsu had gone. "Hey, Zangetsu, I still don't know how to get him back in here! Hey!"

But the zanpakutou spirit was gone, and Ichigo - having become familiar with his sword's_ modus operandi_ - resigned himself to having to figure it out himself. He knelt down and peered into the closest window. It was a flat black, but as Ichigo watched, small patterns of dust moved across its surface; errant drops of rain from the angry sky slapped against the glass. Ichigo frowned and went to rub the window with his sleeve, but nearly leapt back as sound surged in his ears. It was Rukia's voice; she was shouting something: Ichigo spread his palm over the glass, and shapes began to materialize, gaining colour and form by the second.

The picture was in clear focus; he must be fighting. With Rukia? She stood about eight feet from him, Sode no Shirayuki fully released, and Ichigo leaned closer to hear what was being said. All of a sudden, the building seemed to buck; Ichigo lost his balance and fell forward _in_ to the window.

_"Well hello."_

Ichigo was looking at Rukia through his own eyes; his hands, locked behind him, clutched Zangetsu; his legs were soaking wet and very cold. He instinctively attempted to move his head to scan the area: it wouldn't budge. Not even his eyeballs moved. Ichigo flailed within his own mind, momentarily panicking.

_"Calm down, King,"_ the voice crackled in his skull and Ichigo's spirit froze. "_Just relax and enjoy the ride. After all, if I can do it, so can you."_

_What the hell is going on?_ Ichigo thought at it, scared to try and move his mouth. There was a dark chuckle.

_"You're just experiencing things from my side of the mirror,"_ it said. _"Don't interfere; I'm having a good time." _

_We're bound by kidou,_ Ichigo said, realizing the funny feeling around his wrists for what it was. He blew a sigh of relief.

"_Yeah, your girl's not so sure what to do with me,"_ Ichigo could hear the smirk in its voice. _"So she tied me up, and apparently isn't gonna let me go until you come back."_

Ichigo felt a swell of pride for Rukia, focusing on her through his own eyes once again. Her gaze was fixed on him, and she was beet-red; Ichigo imagined she was mad at him for not resurfacing yet. _Don't worry, Rukia, I'm coming_, he thought.

_"If only," _the hollow said sourly, but Ichigo ignored it, and began to cast about for clues as to how his hollow had gotten a hold of his body.

Meanwhile, Rukia watched as the hollow was silent for a few minutes. Perhaps it had run out of creativity for its lies - and they were lies, she had to keep telling herself. Ichigo would _never_ - at least, not at first - Sode no Shirayuki raged incoherently as images rose in the back of her mind, unbidden, unwanted, etched there by the hollow's words. Rukia took a breath and tried to counter them with images from her own mind; small fantasies, hopes, little daydreams...but in each one, the hands were bone-white, gripping a little too hard as black eyes burned into her own. Something cold slithered in her gut as she fought the rising panic - _remember Ichigo, remember how he looks at you, orange hair and warm hands and glittering black eyes -_ her stomach lurched as it began to speak again.

"So Rukia, where were we? Right in the middle of the one where you're bent over the -"

Rukia cut its speech off with a lightning bolt directly to its neck; it howled in pain.

Ichigo, trapped behind his own mind, swore as every nerve flared with searing electricity which faded almost as quickly as it had come, leaving a dull ache in his neck.

_Oww, fuck, what the hell?_

_"Ask your pretty little friend out there," _the hollow shot back, _"She's the one doing it."_

_You're the one provoking her, _Ichigo said vaguely, beginning to notice something else. A_nd...okay, what the fuck? _He recoiled in disgust and felt the hollow's intense amusement.

_"So I get off on pain, so what?" _It shrugged.

_That's sick!_

_"Don't knock it til you've tried it," _the hollow opened its mouth and began to speak to Rukia again, leaving Ichigo with only slight nausea and a deep sense of shame for enjoying the sensation to keep him company.

"...bent over his desk," it was saying, "right on the paperwork, right where that bastard Renji sits every day, and he imagines taking you from behind, making you scream his name and say you belong to him and him only_aaarhgh_!"

Inside his own mind, Ichigo listened for the first time to what the hollow was saying; kidou lanced through him, but it was brushed aside by the sheer amount of anger boiling up inside of him. That the hollow had dared to look in on his private thoughts - and yes, they were his, but they weren't supposed to...they were fantasies, harmless; to Rukia, he would _never_ - but the monster controlling his body had different ideas, and Ichigo watched in horror as it used his private dreams to essentially rape the woman who had saved his family and his life.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. Oh God, it was not supposed to be like this._ Ichigo raged profanities, tried uselessly to control his limbs, tried to force back the rising desire in his throat. All to no avail: Ichigo watched helplessly as his innermost secrets flowed unbidden from his own lips, wrapping themselves around the small shinigami in front of him, infiltrating her mind, pushing up the walls around her heart, piercing her innermost thoughts. He, Ichigo, had done this. He had allowed something sick and dangerous to be free, and now he was unable to stop it from hurting the person who meant the most to him.

* * *

A/N: Because in the end, it's all about the mind-rape. 

(Yes, I lifted the imagery of the "pitching forward into the looking glass" thing from the Goblet of Fire, where Harry pitches into D-dore's memories, but it worked very well for what I imagine the link between Ichigo and his hollow to be like. )


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

* * *

_Damn you to **hell**, you** monster**, you **sick twisted**-_

_"Shut up, King," _the hollow said nastily, _"and don't try and pull that shit on me again. I'm just telling her what I see in your mind every night. Too bad she doesn't seem to return the feeling."_

_I will make you pay, _Ichigo bit out, _for what you are doing to her. _

_"Give me a break, King. You want it. You want her. We both want her. Work with me here; we could really have something going."_

_Never. _

_"Suit yourself."_

"Ohhh Rukia," the hollow grinned lustily at the shinigami in front of him. "What I wouldn't give to have you spread naked underneath me-_aughhhhSHIT_!"

It was panting now, Rukia could tell, and it looked unsteady on its feet; she had doubled the dosage of electricity on the last shot of kidou.

"I'm getting tired of this," She said, trying to keep the waver out of her voice; determined not to let it see that it was affecting her. "Give up, and bring Ichigo back." The hollow paid no attention as its eyes went momentarily blank, like it had been doing for the past couple minutes.

Inside, Ichigo wrestled to maintain the thin slice of control he had seized: when the electricity had shot through the hollow's body, a small sliver of space had opened up in its iron grip, and Ichigo had inserted his metaphorical hands and pulled. The hollow swatted him away.

_"Watch yourself, King,"_ it said, its tone less amused and more threatening. _"Don't want any accidents, now."_

And then it was back on the outside, back to taunting Rukia.

"Oh, I can keep it up," the not-Ichigo said, looking up at her through sweat-dampened bangs. "I can keep it up for as long as you need, sweet Rukia."

Ichigo, inside, cringed in embarrassment at the hollow's insinuation, made even more shameful by the fact that he was almost painfully hard; it truly did get off on physical pain, and Ichigo thanked Sereitei for teaching so many binding kidous to their shinigami. Ichigo really didn't want to think about what would happen if his hollow was freed before he regained control.

"Oh, Rukia-chan, with my power, I would slaughter dozens for you," it was saying. "The red would look so good on your white sword...on your white skin..."

As Rukia dosed the hollow with electricity once more, Ichigo saw an opening once again and dived for it; this time he managed to hang on for about a minute before the hollow pushed him away again. Pain. Pain was the key to his takeover, Ichigo saw: each time Rukia physically hurt the hollow, a crack appeared in its control. The key was to have Rukia...hurt him...more...

Ichigo nearly laughed at the predicament he found himself in. Of course Rukia would try to hurt him as little and as non-lethally as she could, not knowing whether or not he would be permanently damaged by it. The only way she would even use her sword against him was if he full-out attacked her...and Ichigo knew that if the hollow was loosed from its bonds, it would overwhelm his tiny friend. If only he could tell her in some way...to perhaps stab him in the leg, or punch him in the head; anything to cause a massive amount of pain and a minimum amount of damage.

_"Face it King, you're never coming back,"_ the hollow said, and sniggered._ "I'll have your body, I'll have your woman, I'll have my way."_

_Rukia would kill me first._

_"Are you so sure? I could let you out on weekends for her...if she knew you were alive, she wouldn't be able to kill us."_

_She'd kill us. Or herself. _

_"Whatever, King. I'm getting bored of this. Time for a reversal of positions." _

Ichigo could feel the hollow gripping and twisting Zangetsu into a horizontal position, as much as the kidou bonds allowed.

"You. What are you doing?" Rukia asked, sensing that something was going on, but unable to see behind the not-Ichigo's back.

"Nothin'," it said innocently, but the glint in its eyes belied its tone, which then darkened considerably, hissing "_Getsuga tenshou_."

The black blade of energy surged upwards, slicing through two of the kidou bonds and drawing a papercut-thin line halfway up the hollow's spine. The not-Ichigo wrenched its hands apart, the bonds dissolving as its reiatsu - black with a red edge - surged.

Rukia took one look and ran. It caught up with her in a second, dancing in the air beside her, keeping pace easily.

"Ohhhh Rukia, why are you leaving me?" It mock-pouted, then cackled at her. "I thought you were going to save Ichigo; what happened to that? Turning your back on your friend, eh?"

Rukia brought Sode no Shirayuki up in a desperate, enraged slash, halting mid-step: blood sprayed as the tip of her zanpakutou dragged itself through the not-Ichigo's shoulder, staining the white cloth a deep cherry-red. The hollow's eyes went peculiarly blank once again, and she struck out blindly, fearing the worst: she blocked it easily, however, before leaping away again, confused and paranoid. _Is it toying with me? What is it planning? Does it intend to make me slice Ichigo up irreparably?_

She needed help with this. Much as she hated to admit it, she was no match for the thing which now controlled Ichigo's soul; its speed, its viciousness, its psychological battering; it was trapping her, asphyxiating her, leaving her with no place to go. Rukia turned her steps towards the Urahara Shoten, but was confronted by the not-Ichigo standing in front of her, bleeding and furious.

"Rukia," it snarled; its shoulder dripped blood, and the wound on its left hand had begun to bleed anew. She backed up, terrified, and began to call her sword.

"Tsugi no -" There was a blur, followed by blinding pain; Rukia's head snapped sideways as she was dealt a blow across the cheek with the flat of Zangetsu's blade.

"Shut the fuck up," it instructed, its voice tight with fury as Rukia slowly straightened again, her hand to her cheek, a welt slanting from her right temple to the corner of her mouth, tears stinging in her eyes from the pain. "You got lucky, bitch, in that I can't kill you," it sheathed the reverse Zangetsu, coming closer and grabbing her wrist, yanking her hand away from her face. "But I'm capable of doing just about everything but."

It backhanded her, driving her head to the side once again, and Rukia cried out as its knuckles drove into her already-bruised cheek: drawing her zanpakutou back, she thrust up towards its ribcage. It caught Sode no Shirayuki's blade in its hand once again; Rukia twisted, causing rivulets of its blood to run down her zanpakutou, and its grip suddenly loosened.

"Shit," it cursed, a note of panic in its garbled voice. Rukia looked up, into its eyes, and her breath caught in her throat: white was travelling across the black expanse of its left eye, and as she watched, a warm brown began to leak into the iris.

"Ichigo," she breathed. _He was there! He was fighting!_ She stopped her sword's movement, unsure of what to do to help Ichigo's struggle; the moment of hesitation was all that the hollow, in control once more, needed, letting go of Sode no Shirayuki and bringing its foot down on the tip. The handle was torn out of Rukia's grip, and she found herself spun around, the hollow pressing into her back, its freely-bleeding hand clamped over her mouth to stop her from performing kidou.

"Don't you _ever_ say his name," it hissed into her ear; she gripped its hand, fingers slipping in blood that began to run down her chin and neck, but suddenly the white Zangetsu was pressed up against her throat, hard enough to draw a thin line of her own blood. "That's right," it said, as she froze, "now, I'm gonna take my hand away from your mouth, and you're not gonna say a word, Rukia-chan, or I'll cut your tongue out."

It took its hand away, and Rukia tried not to hyperventilate, returning her hands to her sides. Ichigo was there, she knew; he was fighting, and the not-Ichigo's hand trembled on the hilt of Zangetsu. Rukia stood, silent and tense, and tried to believe in Ichigo's ability to stop the monster which held her in its grip; a large hand grabbed her waist, and she bit back a scream.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

* * *

Inside his own mind, Ichigo wrestled to control his own limbs as the hollow laughed insanely. 

_Bastard, I will win this!_ He gritted, and tried to forcibly plunge his consciousness into the rips in the hollow's control: he was repelled each time.

_"Ichi-Ichi-Ichi-nii,"_ the hollow sing-songed, and jolts of pain lanced through Ichigo's consciousness; he was dimly aware of it coming from his left hand, but he had relinquished his focus on what the hollow was doing in order to throw everything into fighting for control.

He was so close. He knew he'd almost grabbed control for a moment there; Ichigo had seen the look in Rukia's eyes, and it was her face that hung in his memory, full of hope and wonder, that kept him fighting now. _Hang on Rukia_, he thought grimly, _I'm coming, and soon I'll be murdering this bastard for what he's done..._

_"Not likely!" _Came the derisive call, but Ichigo ignored it; he knew the thing was talking big. He'd be in control soon, he was sure of it. All he needed was Rukia to give it one more distraction...one more point of pain for it to give its attention to, and he would be out.

* * *

Rukia could feel the blood beginning to dry on her skin. She tried to focus on that, instead of the blade at her throat, the hand on her chest, the breath in her ear, the hard body behind her. It had been moving slowly for the past while, leisurely opening the front of her shinigami robes, hissing profanities in her ear, taking its time to draw lines of its own blood over her bare flesh. She'd been holding back a sob since it had begun its slow violation, but the tears trickled and dripped, warm and ticklish, down her cheeks, each an expression of helpless rage and self-loathing.

How had this happened? How had she allowed this to happen? That this thing would humiliate her, would touch her so intimately, would put its disgusting, blood-dripping hands to parts of her body that no man had ever touched; how could she be so weak, so pathetic as to let this happen? It said it couldn't kill her; _fight back, Rukia! What can the consequences be; the worst is happening already!_ And yet, she couldn't do anything but stand, throat aching with anger and hurt, shaking with rage and worthlessness, averting her eyes from Ichigo's hands violating her body, trying not to feel.

_Ichigo, Ichigo is coming_, she thought, and it was a mantra. _Ichigo will come; Ichigo will beat this thing, and take back control, and this will end._

But wasn't it Ichigo's hand, big for a fifteen-year old's, calloused from wielding Zangetsu, on her body? Wasn't it Ichigo's chest that she was pressed against; her head at his collarbone because he was too damn tall for his own good? Wasn't it Ichigo's breath warm on her cheek? Wasn't it Ichigo's zanpakutou, slim and deadly, pressing against her throat?

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine his face. The Ichigo in her mind was a strange figure, with black nails and yellow eyes, hissing profanities and wielding a white sword, smiling cruelly and evoking equal parts lust and revulsion within her.

She'd almost loved him.

Sharp nails dragged over her chest, leaving reddish scrapes soon covered over with a wash of blood as it palmed her left breast with its freely-bleeding hand, viciously tweaking the nipple. Rukia stayed silent; she would not give it the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. Her cheek burned where Zangetsu had struck it, where Ichigo had -

Where was Ichigo? He could not be the thing standing behind her, the thing with hands that ran defilement over her skin, reaching ever lower, rendering her naked in her mind and in reality. Ichigo could not be the strange figure in her mind, with a mouth that smiled even as it cursed her, with eyes that spoke honesty through a black mask.

Ichigo had saved her once, she remembered dimly; he was in a cape, and wielded a power so huge it overwhelmed her captors. Where was Ichigo now?

_Inconsequential_. The voice drifted through her muddled mind, familiar and freezing. A glint of white caught Rukia's eye: her sword lay on the grass, bloodstained and calling out.

_Your boy cannot save you now_, Shirayuki's voice, cold and commanding, swirled through Rukia's consciousness. _You are the one who is supposed to save him._

_But how -_

_Forget your fear, Rukia! _Icy clarity blasted through Rukia's mind: she was awake and listening, propelled out of dull shock by the voice of her zanpakutou. _Ichigo risked his life over and again for you - now you will do the same for him. He needs you now, Rukia, and though I may not be in your hand, my spirit guides your every action, your every attack. _

Rukia was suddenly hyper-aware; Zangetsu hummed with conflicted energy against her throat, the hollow's hand dripped with gore and malice as it dipped down to caress her inner thigh, fingers leaving bruises, red-black reiatsu screeching and fouling against her own white energy.

_You have but one chance, Rukia, _Sode no Shirayuki instructed, focused and with deadly intent. _I will guide your hands._

She knew what to do. She knew what to do, and she knew the consequences for what she was about to do, and dried tear-tracks cracked as Rukia smiled thinly.

_Strike now!_

Rukia reached up, quicker than lightning, Sode no Shirayuki's strength coursing through her: she grabbed Zangetsu's hilt, forcing it away from her throat. At the same time, she brought her head forward and then snapped it violently back: Rukia heard a crunch as her head connected with its cheekbone. Its left hand, still on her thigh, tightened; as the not-Ichigo fell backwards, Rukia tumbled back as well, landing on top of it hard enough to knock the breath out of it.

"Not so fa-" it began, bringing its arm around her waist like a vise, but cut itself off in the middle of the sentence.

"No," it said, and Rukia could feel a shudder go through it; it began to screech. "NO! I fucking had you! I did! You bastard, you-"

Rukia wrenched its arm away from her body; it let her go, curling into a fetal position on the bloody grass, clutching at its head. Rukia ran to Sode no Shirayuki and picked her bloodstained zanpakutou up, sending a silent thank you to the spirit of her sword before striding back to stand over the thing on the grass.

It was convulsing and muttering under its breath, too low and too fast for Rukia to make out what it was saying. The reverse Zangetsu twitched in its grip. She kicked the zanpakutou away; it convulsed, but made no other movement, and Rukia put Shirayuki's blade against its throat. It was not Ichigo. She knew this now, with deadly certainty; Ichigo was fighting it, inside, but if it resurfaced once more, she would put it to the sword: there was no other recourse.

* * *

_"I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hateyouIhateyouIhateyou -"_

Ichigo swore and clawed at the darkness: the hollow's eerie voice howled all around him, but Ichigo knew he had won. Even as he ripped and tore at the stuff that surrounded him, bits of light were beginning to shine through; pain throbbed and rang through his consciousness, and he knew that Rukia had managed to get a hit in.

Suddenly, disorientingly, he was back on the sideways buildings of his inner world, and his hollow crouched before him. Before Ichigo could say a word, it bounded up, snarling, claw-like fingers grabbing for his eyes. Ichigo kicked out and felt his foot connect solidly with its chest; it flew several feet away, landing in a crumpled heap. It raised its head, eyes burning like twin yellow coals of spite.

_"You may have won this time_," it sneered, "_but I'll come back. I'll always come back. You'll never be without me, and you can bet that _she'll_ never be without me either, so long as you're around."_

It spat, then turned and leapt off the side of the building; Ichigo ran to the edge, looking over, but there was no sign of it.

"Ichigo." Zangetsu's solemn voice rang from behind him; Ichigo turned around to look up at his zanpakutou's familiar - if unsmiling - face.

"Zangetsu!" Ichigo said, the relief in his voice coupled with anxiety. "Is it gone, then?"

"You heard it yourself," Zangetsu answered. "This is not the end of it, Ichigo. You must not allow this to happen again."

"I know," Ichigo said seriously, determinedly. "I have to defeat it, somehow. But just continually trying to beat it back from taking over isn't working...But I will work on it," he promised, sensing some urgency underlying his zanpakutou's silence.

"Farewell, Ichigo," Zangetsu said. "Your battle now lies in the world outside."

"Battle?" Ichigo asked, somewhat confusedly, but suddenly he was lying on his side in the grass of Karakura park, and he _hurt._

"Aaah," his breath hissed as he sucked in a gasp; his left hand felt like it had been put through a meat grinder; pain lanced through his right shoulder, and a deep ache was throbbing in the left side of his face. _Where is Rukia?_ Ichigo cracked his eyes open, seeing a figure directly before him.

"Ruki-" his throat was rough, but that wasn't the reason that his voice died in his throat. Ichigo stared, horror and something deeper welling up inside him at the sight of his best friend.

Rukia crouched, eyes determined and deadly, zanpakutou pointed directly at his throat: blood coated the blade, running all the way from spatters on the hand clutching the hilt to where it dripped gently from the tip. Her hair was streaked with sweat and blood; one side of her face was covered with deep black and purple bruises, radiating from an angry, raised welt that ran from her ear to the side of her mouth. It was the exact shape of Zangetsu's blade.

"Rukia, it's me..." he whispered, slowly raising himself to a sitting position. She said nothing, but rose as he sat, keeping her sword in direct line with his throat, as if at any moment he might lunge at her. Her eyes betrayed no flicker of recognition.

She was standing now, and Ichigo tore his eyes away from the damning mark on her face only to focus on her front: her robes were open, ragged and torn, exposing her torso from collarbone to navel. Drying blood painted itself across her scratched and bruised skin; Ichigo followed the trail down to her hip and realized, with a sick jolt, that it went lower than he himself could see. There were marks the size and shape of his own fingers marring the skin of her waist and what he could see of her breasts. Bile rose in his throat, panic and nausea bubbling together to overwhelm him.

"Rukia -" his voice cracked. "I'm so-"

"Don't say it!" Her voice was like a whip, cutting him off mid-word, venomous and impersonal.

_What had he done?_ Rukia's dark eyes bored into his own, as if to say, _Isn't it obvious?_

"Oh God..." He buried his face in his hands, but recoiled as his left burned and throbbed; he felt blood, sticky and wet, on the side of his face.

"Get up." Rukia's voice was like steel. When Ichigo remained sitting, wretched and horror-struck, she took a step closer, her sword whispering against the neck of his shinigami robes. "Get up." She commanded once again. "We are going to Urahara's."

Ichigo stood up carefully; her sword remained dangerously close to his jugular, and he could feel an indescribable emotion rising to choke him: she didn't trust him. He couldn't blame her; he didn't trust himself, but it broke something within him nonetheless to see the absolute lack of emotion in her eyes. _Fuck_. There were no profanities strong enough to adequately curse the hollow within him for causing this...to curse himself with for being weak enough to let it out.

And so Ichigo walked before her with careful steps, shoulders bowed, eyes burning and throat aching, a headache lancing through his brain, no evidence whatsoever of the hollow. Not even a chuckle. It had done its job well.

* * *

A/N: I keep waiting for someone to review and call me a sick, twisted fuck for doing what I'm doing to these characters. I think that this chapter may just garner some of those. Oh God, Rukia, Ichigo, I'm so sorry... 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

* * *

They had been walking in silence for ten minutes. For Ichigo, it might well have been a century, filled with agonized silence both from without and within. Rukia was dead silent behind him; she might as well have not been there, if not for the occasional poke from Sode no Shirayuki from when he stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk, or from when she jumped at a sudden movement of his. She had taken Zangetsu from him; the sword seemed content to stay in bankai form, and Rukia had thrust it through her waist sash, where it remained silent. 

She was terrified of him. She was frightened, she didn't trust him, she probably would never want to see him again after this night. Emotion had a stranglehold on his throat; Ichigo had come dangerously close to crying several times as the image of her bruised face and impassive eyes resurfaced again and again in his mind.

And what could he say to her? What could he say to anyone? How could he face Rukia, day after day, working together, knowing what he had done to her? How could he allow himself to be around her - to be around any of his friends and family - when it could happen all over again? Blood still trickled and dripped from his left hand; slower now, the coagulants working, but each beat of his pulse reproached him, reminded him, taunted him with the fact that he'd done something that he could never take back. Ichigo felt sick, simultaneously wondering about the extent of what he had done to Rukia and shying away from the very idea of asking.

Rukia, behind Ichigo, kept her face as blank as possible, even though she knew that no one was looking. It wasn't the point; it was the principle of the thing. She had cried enough tears that night; a true Kuchiki would never let her enemy glimpse her with her guard down. She pressed her free hand to her face, using her healing kidou on herself: she was exhausted, however, and used her energy sparingly, enough to calm the swelling and deep bruising.

Was that it? Was Ichigo now her enemy? No, the thing inside Ichigo; that was her enemy, her true foe, not the boy who walked numbly in front of her, shoulders slumped, paying no attention to his wounds or the world. But how alike were they? The not-Ichigo had known her, known her name, known Ichigo's thoughts. As much as she hated to admit it, it had seemed that the not-Ichigo was part of Ichigo himself. So how much of Ichigo was part of the hollow? It hurt her head to try and think her way through it.

"Rukia," Ichigo had come to a halt; they were walking down a main street, office buildings lining the empty, lamp-lit road.

Rukia stopped as well, immediately tense. He started to turn around, and she quickly slid Sode no Shirayuki up to prick at the side of his neck.

"Don't move." She commanded, focussing her gaze on her sword. She didn't want to look at his face; what would she see there?

"Rukia, please -" Ichigo halted and swallowed, then continued with some difficulty, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "Rukia, can I just talk to you?"

"No," she said, more forcefully than she'd intended, still staring intently at her blade. "No, you can't."

"But-"

"And what would you say?" she snarled, manoevring so that she pressed him up against the side of the nearest building, her zanpakutou against his throat. "Would you say sorry? Would that make it better?" She was shaking, Rukia realized; shaking with not so much fear as anger, helpless and frustrated - anger with no direction, because the thing that she wanted to slice, to hack into little bits, was gone. And in its place was Ichigo, bleeding and motionless. He slumped against the wall, eyes shadowed by his ridiculous hair.

"Answer me," Rukia insisted, realizing as she did so that she no longer knew the question. She needed to hear his voice.

"Rukia, I -" He didn't know what to say. What was there to be said that did not already hang, unspoken, in the air between them? "I promise you, Rukia, it won't happen again," the words sounded pathetic even to his own ears, "I'm going to find a way to fight that thing on a level ground, and destroy it for good. I promise, I won't let it hurt you again."

"Noble words," Rukia said bitterly.

"But I mean them," Ichigo said desperately, knowing that it made up for nothing. "I'll get my revenge - I'll make it pay, both for me and for you."

"And what am I supposed to say? Thank you?" Rukia could feel the tears welling up behind her sore eyes, conscious of the fact that they were quite literally at a standstill. There was nothing Ichigo could do to make up for what had happened that night; they both knew it, and they both knew that things could not go back to normal, even if - when - Ichigo cast the demon out of himself.

"No, Rukia, I - I can't make this better; I - please put your sword away."

Rukia held it steady.

"I'm me again, Rukia, I swear. It's totally gone, it - at least look at me, Rukia." His voice was imploring. "Look at my eyes; you'll know it's me."

Rukia raised her face, her gaze running up the zanpakutou steel to focus on Ichigo's eyes. They stared back into hers, normal white and comforting brown; Rukia could feel the tears starting to trickle down her face, running hot over the sword-welt on her cheek.

"Please put your zanpakutou down," he asked again, and she could hear the hitch in his voice.

She shook her head silently. When she looked back up at Ichigo, his expression had turned to despair; tears fell from his eyes, ran down his face in a way that made her think more of an open wound than actual crying.

"Why?" His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"It's still inside you," she said, her voice warbling with emotion; she swallowed and continued. "How do I know it's not affecting what you do right now? How do I know that you're still...that you haven't begun to think like it, that you're not influenced by it at all..."

"I'm not," Ichigo said, but it was too hasty. "Oh God...it talks to me sometimes, Rukia, but I swear I'm still me. I would never act like that of my own will; never!"

"But you affect it," she said, "don't try to deny it...it knew me. It knew me, and though it lied to me about everything else, I know that it at least can feel what you feel..."

"It may think it's feeling what I feel, but it can't know. It's twisted, Rukia, and it - it is affected by me, but I swear it only works the one way...I'm not that thing...I wouldn't hurt you..." he trailed off miserably, feeling pathetic. "Rukia, at least tell me if I - what it...I don't know what happened after it broke your kidou spells - did it..."

His throat ran dry; Rukia was still holding Sode no Shirayuki to his throat with one hand, and with the other she was opening the front of her robes, exposing her front all the way down to the sash at her waist. She never took her eyes off of Ichigo, her expression defiant and accusing.

Ichigo drew his breath in sharply; the finger marks and hand prints were clearly defined, even in the shadowy darkness of the midnight street: he could see that the blood liberally painted over her front was beginning to cake as it dried. Again, his eyes were drawn to the damning trail of smeared blood that disappeared into her pants; what had it done?

"Nothing permanently damaging," Rukia said stiffly, as if reading his mind. "I believe your mangas call it 'groping'."

Relief was palpable in his voice. "So it didn't make me-"

"It made you do a lot," Rukia's voice cut across his; both hands were back on her zanpakutou's hilt, her robe hanging loosely across her front, exposing a strip of skin between her breasts from collarbone to navel. "Nothing that healing kidou cannot fix." Her voice was growing more clipped and distant by the minute, as if the act of revealing her body to him caused her to put an extra barrier around her emotions. "Come; the Urahara Shoten is several blocks away."

She stepped back, allowing him a chance to step away from the wall and resume walking in front of her. He didn't.

"Ichigo." She said, still in her formal Kuchiki-voice; Ichigo didn't flinch, exactly, but he didn't move, either.

"Rukia, we're not done here." He took a deep breath: somehow, he had to make this right between them; he had to convince her that it was really, truly Ichigo who stood here, and that he would never hurt her, no matter what.

"Yes we are," she said, a bit of mulishness creeping into her tone. She stepped closer to him, but to the side, to prod him forwards.

"No, we're not. I'm not. That means you're not, cause I'm talking to you." Ichigo faced her once again, glaring down at her.

"Yes we are. I'm in charge of this right now, so get moving, idiot!" She scowled a little, and Ichigo felt a massive wave of relief wash over him: she was acting more normal...more like her old self...

"Rukia, I-"

"Move!"

"Damn it, Rukia!" Ichigo knocked Sode no Shirayuki out of the way and stepped to the side: now she was the one with her back to the wall.

"I'm sorry for everything, Rukia!" he plunged forwards, his irritation helping him through his self-pity to find the words to form some sort of apology. "I swear that I will never hurt you again; I swear I'll never let that thing get the best of me again; I swear I'll make this better!"

He looked down into her eyes, hoping desperately for some sign of approval, and his heart crashed in his chest. Rukia was frozen against the wall, shrinking back from him, the fear in her wide eyes palpable. Her right hand was clenched around her zanpakutou in a fist so tight that the sword was shaking; her other hand clutched the neck of her shinigami robes, pulling them together, cringing.

"Rukia-" Ichigo stumbled back, faster than lightning; he landed sprawled on the pavement. Shutting his eyes tight, he cursed himself for his unthinking aggressiveness; he'd just ruined his entire oath through body language that the hollow inside of him had twisted to its own purposes.

Ichigo wasn't surprised when he felt cool steel against his cheek, smooth against the salt of dried tear tracks. He kept his eyes closed; whatever she wanted to do to him, he would accept it happily. He was a menace to everyone around him. He'd hurt Rukia - physically, mentally, and emotionally - he'd allowed something inside him to twist his life into a complete nightmare within the span of several hours.

He was surprised, however, when he felt gentle fingers replace the blade on his face: his eyes flew open. Rukia was crouching in front of him, her sword now resting across his neck, but her other hand caressed his cheek hesitantly, then cupped it, tilting his face up and bringing hers towards his. She halted about three inches away, and proceeded to study his eyes. Ichigo remained staring up at her, knowing what she was doing: studying him for any traces of his hollow. His eyes were literally windows to his own soul, and he hoped against hope that she would see only Ichigo within them. His body was beginning to react to her closeness, but he tried to ignore it; the electric feel of her cool fingertips on his cheek, her warm breath puffing on to his skin every once in a while, her very nearness...

"It's me, Rukia," he whispered. "I swear."

Her face crumpled; next thing he knew, he had his arms around her as she cried silently into his chest, and he was patting her awkwardly on the back. Her shoulders shook soundlessly, and she clutched Sode no Shirayuki in a desperate grip even as she herself was encompassed in Ichigo's embrace.

"I thought..." Rukia's voice, muffled and raw, came between sobs. "I thought I'd lost you...I thought - I could not go through that again, I wouldn't have been able to in the end...not with you..."

Ichigo made what he hoped were comforting noises; most of what she said wasn't making too much sense to him. Instead, his euphoric mind was paying attention every single point of contact between his body and hers; her shoulder against his chest, his knee against her back, her hands fisted in his hakama, his arms around her, her head resting against his shoulder... After a few minutes, the shuddering stopped, but Rukia remained leaning against his chest. Ichigo wondered what to do, but focussed on holding her small, warm form close to him, relief coursing through him. She didn't hate him. She trusted him enough to put herself in his arms. She believed him. Things were right again, and he would make sure that they stayed that way.

_"Ohhh, Rukia-chan..."_

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. This was never meant to be more than a one-shot, and so perhaps the ending reflects that. I've written and re-written the ending several times, and none seemed to fit; this one I'm still unsatisfied with. Perhaps because I am still quite into the notion of Rukia meeting Hichigo in some way, shape, or form; I wouldn't be surprised if I began another fic on the same theme. 

Again, thanks for reading and reviewing.


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